Just before our lips touched, Brock whispered, “Yes,” which spurred me.
I surged forward the last few millimeters. Our mouths crashed together. Tongues dueled. Teeth clashed.
And I wouldn’t have had it any other way. He and I were strong, alpha men. We were naturally dominant and fought for that dominance now that I wasn’t two steps behind or caught by surprise.
The difference between a soft, feminine body and Brock’s was bigger than the Grand Canyon or the fucking Great Wall of China, but it wasn’t bad or weird. It was so fucking erotic. I couldn’t get enough.
My hands roamed. One came up between our chests, and I rubbed his nipple through his shirt. He groaned as the cotton rasped against the hard nub. A hum of pleasure vibrated in my chest at the sound he made. That sound went straight to my dick. As if it could get any fucking harder.
My other hand slid around his waist and down to his ass. I gripped the hard flesh hidden under the denim and squeezed, pulling him toward me.
He wrenched his mouth from mine.
“Jesus Christ…” he called as his head fell against the wall.
I chuckled as he ground his cock into mine, where I had us pressed together, holding him there. “No. Just Woody.”
He laughed as he leaned toward me, still cupping my face. “You’re definitely living up to that nickname.”
I laughed.
His eyes shined with amusement. His mouth closed over mine. I pulled him away from the wall so we were pressed together. The change in height reminded me of the night with Carly when Brock had pulled me back against his chest. The difference in our size made my blood boil. Brock had always made me feel safe, but now that feeling was melded with a new, hotter feeling.
I pushed him, maneuvering him toward my room. I needed to feel him against me. I didn’t think I was ready for much more than what we were doing, mainly because I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, and I didn’t know what Brock liked in bed with a man, but I wanted more than a liplock in the kitchen.
“Where you taking me, Woody?” he asked against my lips.
I tilted my head back and looked up at him. “I wanna feel you next to me.”
Brock stopped. His hands slid from my face down to my chest and arms, pulling my hands into his. “Are you sure?”
I pulled his hand to my crotch, pressing it there. The feel of his hand against my dick, even through the fabric of my pants, made me dizzy. What blood was left in the rest of my body rushed to where his palm cupped my cock.
“I’m pretty damn sure.”
Brock’s eyes slid closed. He kissed my lips, licking softly at my mouth before saying, “I know you’re horny. I am too, but like you said in Fallujah, I want to make sure that a romp doesn’t fuck shit up with my best fucking friend.”
I remembered the conversation like it was yesterday. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I promise.”
That hearty, raspy laugh that always made me smile washed over me.
Brock dropped a kiss against my mouth, then continued kissing along my jaw to that soft spot behind my ear beforewhispering, “Then take me to bed. I’m yours to do with as you want.”
“You sure about that?” I asked.
He was leaving the door wide fucking open with a statement like that.
His hands wrapped around my body as he murmured, “As much or as little as you want.”
Jealousy slammed into me like an RPG hitting the side of a building. I growled in the back of my throat. The thought of him with someone else, experiencing those things without me, created a sinkhole in my soul.
What the fuck? I’ve never been jealous before.
Brock smirked. His lips twitched as he tried to hold back a smile.
“Are you jealous?” he asked incredulously, that fucking smirk still jerking like a crackhead jonesing for a fix.
“Shut up and get in the fucking bed,” I growled at him, annoyed at him and the evil green monster that made my skin feel too fucking small.
